The memory of the feeling is getting harder and harder to remember, but it was shortly followed by a sense that a lot of my life has been wasted. Basically, I felt that I'm getting old. A feeling that it's almost over. I'm going to be 24 this year and what do I have to show for it? No education, no real job experience, no books written, no previous relationships, etc. Though it could probably have something to do with the upcoming funeral I'm going to. Perhaps I'm worried about what kind of legacy I'll eventually be leaving after me. When faced with death you have a tendency to want to quantify your life somehow, adding up the achievements, but always coming up short.
However! As I said, that feeling was just a fleeting one. It didn't take long before I felt OK again. Strange. And then I thought about the things that I have actually started on: deciding that just wanting to learn piano isn't enough, so I started playing a bit, that just thinking "man, it would be cool to speak Japanese" wasn't enough, so I started learning.
It's not fast going, but I have to remind myself that it's not just the destination that matters; the journey itself is also half the reward.
It's most noticeable when I look in a mirror trying to look straight ahead, my left eye will be pointing a bit to the side.
I think it was discovered sometime during 9th grade (15 year old). Though I still held of using glasses because I was quite an inconfident fellow back then. I think it was only when I started driving that I started using them more often.
Anyway, I was reading on the 'net that young children can do exercises to gradually train the muscles in the defective eye to co-operate, and I though "hmm, can't hurt". That's why you might see me sometimes practicing looking at my nose, cross-eyed. Before the left eye would always shoot off to the left when I tried it, but I've worked on it and now I can do it. But strangely enough I always get a bit dizzy when doing so. I also read that young children can wear a patch over the better eye for a while each day, so the weaker eye gets practice. That's why the second half of the title of this post is suitably called "One-eyed Jack", as it was written while my right eye was covered.